Shackled To The Enemy King

Dorian looked at Catherine standing beside his desk.

His gaze swept over the study, lingering first on his laptop, still open, then on the ledger where he meticulously recorded everything, and finally on the files he had kept under lock and key. His eyes settled on the unmistakable outline of a phone tucked inside Catherine’s pocket.

A phone he hadn’t known she possessed.

After all, her phone was with him for "repairs."

"Hoover..."

A low chuckle escaped him as he strolled farther into the study.

Catherine instinctively took a step back, her eyes never leaving him.

"I almost fell for it," Dorian said, tilting his head as his fingertip traced the edge of the desk. "Until I remembered..."

His smile widened.

"Hoover is your brother’s friend."

He stopped a few feet away.

"So I told the driver to turn the car around..." His eyes lifted to meet hers, and the smile on his lips became almost murderous. "...and look what I found."

His palm slammed onto the desk with such force that the wood rattled.

"Is this how the Prestons raised you, Katerina?" he asked, letting out a low, humorless laugh. "To become a spy?"

His eyes darkened with contempt.

"A conniving woman of low birth pretending to play among nobles. A whore?"

Behind her back, Catherine’s searching hand finally closed around the object she had hidden long ago behind the cabinet beside the window.

Cold steel.

Relief flickered through her.

"You’re right," Catherine said. She drew the gun and aimed it squarely at Dorian’s chest. "I wasn’t raised on pointless etiquette like I was expected to be in my previous life."

Even then, whenever she was with Maximilian, she had rarely cared for meaningless court customs.

Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. Adrenaline thundered through her veins until the rushing in her ears nearly drowned out every other sound. Her fingers trembled for only the briefest instant before tightening around the grip exactly as Bobby had taught her.

"The Prestons raised me to stand on my own feet," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "To never be ashamed of who I am and to keep chasing my dreams, no matter what the world has to say."

For the first time, genuine surprise flashed across Dorian’s face.

His eyes dropped to the gun. To her hands. She was terrified. He could see it in her eyes. Yet the muzzle never wavered.

The surprise vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a mocking laugh. "So proud of being a shrew, are you?"

Catherine gritted her teeth. "I am proud of who I am, Dorian." Her grip tightened. "And I’m proud that I am not your woman."

"Are you?" His voice dropped lower, quieter. "I’ve judged you wrong."

Something about those words sent a chill racing down Catherine’s spine. Her hand shook, a culmination of fear and pain she had accumulated in two lifetimes. But only for a heartbeat.

Then Dorian took another step toward her.

He glanced at the files scattered across the desk before looking back at her with a smile devoid of warmth.

"So..." he said almost conversationally. "You have some evidence." His finger lazily brushed across the polished surface of the desk.

"What next?" He chuckled. "Who’s going to take your complaint?" His smile deepened. "And even if someone does..." He took another slow step forward.

"...then what?"

Catherine tightened her grip, slipping her finger onto the trigger as she calculated her safest route to the door.

"Did you think I got where I am by being nice?" His voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Catherine flinched instinctively, but she did not lower the gun.

"I’d stay back, Dorian," she said, forcing the words past the pounding in her chest. "I don’t want your blood."

At least... Not today.

Dorian stared at her.

"You chose to betray me..." he said quietly. "For what?"

Catherine refused to answer.

Listening to him would only pull her into his game. The moment she let herself become emotional, she would lose the one thing keeping her alive.

Her judgment.

She would make a mistake. She might get herself killed. Or worse... She might kill Dorian before she was ready.

She stepped forward, keeping the gun trained on his chest. She needed to leave. Now.

Dorian looked into her eyes, those hands that didn’t shake. And... slowly... he raised his hands and stepped aside, giving her a clear path to the door.

Without lowering the gun, Catherine backed into the hallway, her eyes fixed on him.

"You remember how you died, don’t you?"

She clenched her jaw. "I know you poisoned me, Dorian."

Another careful step.

Stop answering him. Don’t let him drag you back there.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You should have seen your knight’s face." His voice remained almost gentle. "The moment I buried my dagger in him."

He smiled.

"Again."

"And again."

"He still tried to stand."

Catherine’s fingers tightened around the grip.

Don’t react. Don’t give him what he wants.

She continued backing away.

The servants had vanished.

She wasn’t surprised. They worked for Dorian because they feared him or needed the money, never because they believed in him. None of them would risk standing between them.

"I watched Prince Cassian... Your precious son who was about to inherit your Kingdom, die, Katerina."

His words struck her like a blade.

"Have I ever told you that?" He tilted his head, almost thoughtfully. "It was necessary. You insisted on spending the night with another man."

His smile never reached his eyes. "So I made sure you understood the consequences... I thought you had learned your lesson."

His voice carried the patient disappointment of a tutor correcting poor manners instead of a father speaking about the death of his own son.

"You disappoint me again."

Catherine’s hands began to tremble.

Cassian.

The impossible weight of his little body in her arms... The unbearable silence as she held his bled out body, long after his crying had stopped...

No.

Not even a hundred lifetimes could dull that pain.

Never.

She squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest moment.

He’s talking about the past. He’s trying to make you lose control. Cassian is alive in this lifetime. Fitzgerald is alive. Protect him. Stay focused.

She tightened both hands around the pistol until the trembling eased. She could not fire. Not yet. One gunshot would bring the police, investigators, questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

She still had too much left to do.

Her knees felt weak, but she continued retreating.

"You think you’ll keep him safe this time?" Dorian laughed softly. "You’ve already seen how easy it was to reach your precious prince... All I had to do was make him believe you were in danger. He walked into my trap all by himself."

Something inside Catherine snapped.

The image of Maximilian lying unconscious in that hospital bed flashed before her eyes.

"I know you wanted me to suffer, Dorian!" she shouted. "Don’t pretend otherwise!"

His smile widened.

"So... You still lose yourself whenever I mention him."

He took another step.

"Stay back!" She tightened her grip on the gun.

"You mourn him that much?"

Another step.

"I do."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

"I love him." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "And I am grieving him."

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, furious that she had let him see her cry.

Then...

She heard footsteps from the front. Instinct took over. She instinctively pulled the trigger.

*BANG*

The gunshot exploded through the mansion.

The recoil had barely kicked through her wrist, and before she could react, a powerful hand seized her wrist.

Dorian’s.

The gun was torn from her grasp. Her body hit the marble floor hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs.

Dorian’s rough hand clamped around her throat.

She choked.

The world blurred as tears and dizziness clouded her vision.

Through the haze, Dorian’s furious face loomed above her.

His jaw clenched...

His eyes burned with murderous rage...

He raised the pistol, gripping it by the barrel, the heavy butt poised to come crashing down to her skull.

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